The Lascivious Espada
by ShinnokRaiden99
Summary: While investigating a potential demon's lair, Dante stumbles across a new Devil Arm. What kind of abilities could the sword "Asmodeus" grant the son of Sparda?


The echo of footsteps filled the underground tomb's caverns. The squeak of rusted door-hinges opening for the first time in god knows how long. The screech of awakened demons. A salvo of gunshots.

Dante sighed as he stepped over the now-perforated Msira bodies, paying them little heed as they flailed around in their death throws before dissolving into ash.

"I never did get the idea behind using you guys to guard crypts," he muttered to the deceased demons as he holstered his pistols. If he had kept quiet, he may have heard a demon he missed slithering down the wall behind him. "One or two slugs between the eyes and you go down like anyone else. If they're gonna go with bottom-of-the-barrel mooks like you, just buy a guard dog, you know?"

The bottom-of-the-barrel mook licked its lipless mandibles as it slowly reached out to the ranting devil hunter.

"They're easier to train, more loyal, probably a lot cheaper..."

Just as the monster's claws were about to tear off its prey's head, said prey spun around and neatly sliced the would-be attacker in half. The son of Sparda chuckled, shaking his claymore to get the fiend's infernal juices off it.

"...and they smell a damn sight better too."

Satisfied with his own dumb joke, Dante turned back to the room's centrepiece; a large rectangular sarcophagus carved out of stone, with several lines of indecipherable yet blatantly demonic runes etched along the sides. Yep, this was definitely the place. He'd heard there had been quite a few sightings of inhuman "creatures" in the area, and figuring they might have something to do with his line of work, he decided to check it out. It paid off, discovering a pack of Msira feasting on a dead animal and tracked the beasts back to their nest here. Probably the burial ground of some guy that dabbled in the occult and thought they would protect his belongings, only to eventually grow beyond his spell.

"Which means..." Dante smirked. "...you're hiding something GOOD in here, mister dead sorcerer."

A smirk on his lips, the demon slayer approached the coffin, inspecting the encryption on the front: MASTER SOLOMON BINSFIELD, SEPTEMBER 13 1613 - FEBRUARY 2 1730.

"Lived to a hundred and seventeen, huh?" Dante asked to no one in particular. "Way back in those times, and nobody clocked anything wrong? Eh, whatever. Time to crack this bad boy open!"

He raised Rebellion and slammed the tip of the blade into the crack under the coffin's lid, putting all his weight onto the sword's hilt to try and lever it open. Slowly but surely the top began to raise, cobwebs and moss tearing before Dante worked his fingers into the gap and tossed the lid aside. Clouds of decay practically exploded from the sarcophagus, catching in the devil hunter's lungs and forcing several coughs and wheezes. Fanning the dust away, Dante peered inside and found exactly what he expected; a body, practically a skeleton from centuries of rot, garbed in a shroud of deteriorated fabric. From under the fabric protruded two bony arms, their hands clasping the hilt of a thin rapier sword.

Despite the condition of the chamber and its wielder, the sword was in an almost pristine condition. The white metal blade was shining even in the dreary confines of the crypt, roughly as long as Dante's arm if not a little less. The hilt was wrapped in fine pink silk and was protected by a golden semi-spherical guard, embossed upon were stylized faces that seemed to be screaming in despair. Across the blade, almost imperceptible to the naked eye due to how fine the writing was, was the word "Asmodeus". Even without touching it, Dante could feel the power emanating from the weapon. Demonic, hellish power, practically screaming to be picked up and put to use. There was no doubt about it; it was a Devil Arm.

"Jackpot!" Dante said with a grin, reaching down to grab the sword's hilt. Trying not to disturb Mr. Binsfield's body TOO much (though still managing to snap a finger or five), the son of Sparda eventually managed to work Asmodeus out of its former wielder's grasp. Holding it up to examine it, he could feel the familiar sensation of a satanic will, trying and failing to overpower his own. He chuckled and nodded appreciatively. Oh yeah, this guy was going right beside Alastor and Lucifer...

...a tiny, barely noticeable gleam of red sparked in the darkness. Even with his inhuman reflexes, Dante barely had enough time to bring his new sword down to deflect the thin skewer that shot from the shadows, stopping right over the half-demon's heart. Four more quickly followed it, but this time he was ready. Pushing off the first spike, he backflipped across the empty room as each attack missed their mark. He landed on his feet and looked up as the five spikes retreated back to where they came, and their owner lazily floated out of the shadows.

The gaunt, white, skull-like face stared at Dante with its empty eye sockets, raising a single razor-sharp finger to prop it's "hat" up, like something out of a cowboy movie. It was wrapped in a dark cloak that seemed to be formed of the shadows themselves, and from under the stetson-shaped headgear extended long white tendrils that at first glance could be mistaken for hair. It hovered about a foot from the ground, its body almost completely hidden behind the shade it had wrapped around itself.

Dante scowled. He should have guessed something like a Faust would be here. They loved dark and gloomy places. Of course, this gave the devil slayer something to try his new toy on.

"Alright, tall, dark and ugly," Dante said, his frown turning upside down. "Let's see what this baby can do!"

Without breaking eye contact, he allowed the rapier's dark energy to bleed into his body while at the same time focusing his own power into the weapon to keep it under control. The sword began to glow, as did Dante's own body until, with a yell, he activated his Devil Trigger form. Rather than the red of Rebellion or blue of Alastor, his body let out a wave of pink light and in an instant he had transformed. He looked down, eager to see what new form this weapon granted him.

And he nearly screamed when he saw himself.

As with all his Devil Triggers, he had taken on a far more blatantly demonic form. Oddly for most of his D.T.'s, he didn't gain an armoured or reptilian appearance. Instead, his skin had turned a deep purple, and curved horns extended from his head as his fingers grew into long, sharp talons. He could feel with his tongue how his teeth had grown into a pair of fangs. A small pair of bat-like wings extended from his shoulder blades with a larger pair growing out just above his tailbone, where a long lizard-like tail had formed, ending in a small spade-shape.

But that wasn't what concerned him. What concerned him was the enormous pair of tits sticking out of his chest.

And it wasn't just breasts either; the sculpted physique he had acquired from years of fighting demons had vanished, replaced with a shapely hourglass figure and long, slender limbs. His legs looked like they would go on forever, and he wore a pair of thigh-high platform boots with heels so high they might as well have been stilts. A tight thong replaced his pants, slipping between his new firm buttcheeks to show them off while protecting his modesty from the front, if only barely. His coat had changed into a tight strapless dress, clinging to his new bust and emphasising his cleavage. It was ankle-length, yet it had a long slit up the front and the back from just below his belly button downwards, causing it to fan out almost like a third pair of wings. Shoulder length gloves covered his arms but left his fingers bare, and his formerly chin-length hair now extended past his shoulders and down to his lower pair of wings. He lifted Asmodeus to check his face in its reflection; it was difficult with how slim the blade was, but he managed to make out the alluring facial features of a temptress, with dark markings on his eyelids and lips that, at first glance, could easily be mistaken for makeup.

"What the HELL!?" he screamed, his voice having gone from tough and rugged to soft and sultry, even despite the inhuman echo his D.T. blessed it with.

A small snort made his ears perk and he turned back to the Faust, which had used its hand to cover its mouth. Was... was that demon LAUGHING at him?

"Son of a..." Dante growled and lunged at the Faust... or at least he WOULD have, if his lovely boots weren't so unstable that he took one step and almost instantly keeled over.

Seeing its chance, the Faust quickly stretched its fingers in another attempt to impale the transformed devil hunter. Even as he fell, however, Dante was quick to deflect the spikes with his sword. He hit the ground shoulder-first, and quickly rolled to the opposite side of his attacker before scrambling to his wobbly feet. He cursed under his breath; there was no way in hell he could fight like this. He readied himself to drop the D.T., but was forced to duck as three more extended fingers stabbed through the air where his head once was.

"Damn it!" Dante yelled as he hurried as fast as his hooker heels would let him, his breasts bouncing with every movement in such a way they threatened to bounce right out of his dress. Trying to ignore the sensations, Dante hurried for the door with a loud clomp clomp clomp. But the Faust was quicker, gliding through the room and cutting off its opponent's escape. It stared intently at Dante, and its claws glowed menacingly.

Dante felt his blood run cold. He had no way to dodge; if he leapt to the side, he'd fall over in his heels again and would be a sitting duck. If he backed off, he'd be turned into a devil slaying shish kebab. And he wasn't sure he could risk jumping into the air with a floating opponent like a Faust.

There was only one chance. Gripping his rapier, Dante lunged forward with a thrust. He spread his four wings and flapped as hard as he could, lifting himself just enough to give a minor boost and lessening the balance issue, if only slightly.

The attack failed to connect; the Faust saw it coming and backed away, just out of the sword's reach. But in the same instant, the blade glowed pink and suddenly let out a burst not unlike Dante's own D.T. explosion. It didn't hurt the demon, but it DID force aside the shadows it cloaked itself in. With a frightened shriek, the Faust's true insectoid form was revealed. It spread its multiple legs and prepared to scurry away, but Dante was not going to let this chance go. Ignoring his clumsy footwear and flapping his wings once more, Dante leapt forward and plunged the blade right between its eye sockets. A screech filled the catacombs as the Faust writhed in its last moments before finally dissolving into a puddle of goop.

Panting, Dante dropped to his knees and looked at the sword. Asmodeus could attack through a Faust's cloak? ...hm, what else could it do, he wondered. He slowly rose to his feet, shaking a bit unsteadily and grabbing the coffin for balance. He glanced down at his body and grumbled. He focused on regulating his and the sword's energies, cancelling his Devil Trigger and sighed as the familiar sensation of returning to human washed over him.

"Now, time to head-"

He paused as he heard his voice. He looked down.

"Oh, god damn it."

"...and that's what happened," the white haired woman explained to the two proprietors of Devil May Cry. Trish's arms were folded as she looked her employer over, leaning against their office's main desk; he was wearing his usual black and red outfit, Rebellion slung over his shoulder, Ebony and Ivory holstered at his hips, and his signature red overcoat completing the look. But he had a figure any woman would kill to have, full lips as red as his coat, and eyes with a gaze that could stop a man cold. She knew she shouldn't be surprised, she'd seen a lot more extreme things demons could do... but it still shocked her that they could turn a manly man like Dante into such a babe.

Lady meanwhile thought the whole thing was hilarious, and had been in a laughing fit ever since she heard the words "It's me, Dante!"

"I... see," Trish finally said, stroking her chin. "Well, that's a very... interesting situation."

"That's not the word I'd use," Dante grumbled, his lips pushed into an adorable pout as he stormed around his desk. He flopped down onto his chair, bringing his legs up and resting them on the table. It wasn't an uncommon pose for the devil slayer to take when he wasn't working, but in his new figure it almost looked like a stereotypical supermodel pose, as if to show off his shapely gams. As stunning as she was, Trish couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy.

"So..." Lady took off her glasses and wiped her eyes. "...wh-what do you plan to do now?"

Just as Dante opened his mouth to answer, the phone began to ring. He quickly grabbed the handset and held it to his ear.

"Hello, Devil May Cry? ...got it. Be there in five minutes."

He hung up and turned to his assistants.

"Until I can get this fixed? Business as usual."

He was out of his chair like a shot, kicking the doors open dramatically. He whipped out his pistols and twirled them in his dainty fingers, Trish wielding his father's sword on his left while Lady loaded Kalina-Ann on his right.

"Let's rock, girls!" 


End file.
